feedback would be appreciated.. formating got kinda f-ed up but ignore that
It was just beginning to grow dark when the long, black vehicle pulled up in front of the house. I was peering out from my bedroom window, past the blood-red curtains which had begun to violently flicker and wave into the room. My gaze turned toward the skies, which had become filled with impregnated, gray clouds. Glancing back down, I could see the two men pulling her from the car, out on a white stretcher. Through the open window, I could only hear the loud sign out front which read “Mason’s Funeral Home” in faded letters, making quite a racket from the coming storm. Quickly, I shut the window and drew the curtains tightly closed.
I could sense, even then, that this one was special. Turning, I glanced over at my reflection in the only mirror in the room. It was dusty; I did not look in mirrors often, but I rubbed a dust cloth against it until I could make out my reflection. I attempted to smooth out the wrinkles in my shirt and quickly combed my hair over the freckled bald spot on my head.
Normally, I would not care about the reflection staring back, but I could feel my heart thumping rapidly with anticipation and I just knew. Something was different about this one. I attempted to smile, but turned away from the mirror when the smile was returned with a ghoulish and horrible grin, one filled with yellow, rotting teeth.
I heard the men knocking loudly against the side door as I descended the staircase outside of my room, a pale, bony hand latched onto the railing beside it for support. I remembered jumping these steps a few at a time when I was younger, but those days were far behind me. I was the last of my family left, and had never found one to marry. I had been attractive, once, and in my younger days, I was not without the occasional date here and there, despite my odd mannerisms. “You never listen, Mason,” they’d say, shaking their head and sighing at me as if I was some sort of weird creature. That was always their complaint. And I can’t say I blame them; I could just never find it in me to pretend to find whatever they happened to be going on about remotely interesting.
I heard the knocking turn to banging against the side door as the dark hall lit up, followed by a loud clap of thunder which shook the old house at its roots. After passing through the pain main room, which was covered in sickening yellow wallpaper and filled with vases of red and pink roses paired with baby’s breath, I finally opened a small door which led to the side room. It was a small, dimly lit room with no windows. All of the bodies were brought into that room, and then reeled down the ramp into the basement.
“Jesus Christ, you think he’s sleeping or something?” what I could only assume to be James’ yelled angrily.
At that moment, I yanked the door to the outside sharply open. They were both completely drenched. “No, no… sorry about that,” I said, holding the door open for my two assistants so that they could wheel Her in. I could hear James muttering under his breath, but I knew he would not say anything further about the issue in my presence.
As they pushed the stretcher through the door, I felt my hands rise instinctively upward, until they were grasping the silver cross which hung from my neck. I felt a sudden urge to kneel, but remembered I was in company other than Her’s, and thus refrained.
“This one here, it’s a darn shame, just sixteen years old, I reckon,” James said, while Edward, my other assistant simply nodded his head in confirmation. Edward hardly ever spoke. He was a short, pudgy man without charm, but one who did not waste words so needlessly, unlike James, who was always making conversation just to avoid silence. I always preferred the silent type, and besides, Edward was a natural when it came to embalming.
“Shame,” I said, as casually as I could, feeling a sudden rush of blood rise to my face. I turned my face from them, so that it was covered in the shadows.
“Edward, I am not feeling very well at the moment. Would you mind embalming Her, and I’ll finish Her up and make Her presentable for the viewing?” It was not really a question, he knew, so I didn’t even have to look over to know he was nodding.
“Very well then,” I said, and thought I saw from the corner of my eye his own face turn slightly red as his eyes lit up. It seemed as if his hands were trembling and he was looking most forward to this task I had given him.
I suddenly felt what I could only describe as a pang of jealousy run through my system as I looked at those fat, greedy hands. But I could not change the plan now. Besides, I did not want to see Her in the current state she was I remember the picture her mother had given me. Right now it was sitting in the drawer next to my bed, carefully placed in a silk cloth with a bright, blue cross on it.
Before I retired to my bedroom, I exchanged a few more words with Edward, instructing him to take good hair of Her. Finally, I climbed the creaking steps back up to my bedroom. The last thing I remember before falling asleep was Her large, blue eyes gazing into mine and Her long, flowing brown, almost golden hair.
Throughout the night I had many a dream, as I would awake sporadically due to the continuing storm outside. She appeared throughout these visions, some which I dare not repeat, though in most she was angelic and virginal, appearing as the blessed mother Mary. In the last of these dreams, she was cradling a small baby in Her arms, as she walked along a flowing river. She turned toward me, Her lips turning upward into a smile. This was the last image to appear to be before I woke from the sunlight creeping into my room, I buried my head back into my pillow, grasping tightly to that last image, but it was gone.
With a sigh, I finally pulled myself from bed, got dressed and carefully placed the photograph in my pocket. I pulled the curtains open, scanning the skies for the dark storm clouds. The storm had gone, however, and the skies were devoid of clouds, and the sun filled the room with piercing light. I winced, and shut them again.
When I arrived in the basement, the nervous feeling in my stomach had only grown more intense, and I could not bring myself to eat anything. Slowly, I brought myself toward the table, where she lay naked, save for a modesty cloth, which had been placed across her lower half. Some of the more unmentionable dreams flitted through my head upon seeing Her, and I felt color rise to my cheeks.
It seemed as if the whole table was radiating with warm, celestial light. On a side table, Edward had carefully laid out the dress Her mother had given to me while sobbing over her daughter’s death. It was hard for me to believe this beautiful creature that lay before me had come from such a haggard, frightful woman. The woman had told me her daughter’s name was Miranda, a name I scoffed at. She was my Mary. Miranda was hardly a name for Her. This earth was not even a place for Her.
I placed the picture on the table, carefully comparing Her face in the picture to the one before me. She looked perfect in Her current state, but I knew much work needed to be done before she could be laid in Her coffin. After putting on gloves, I carefully examined the body, checking to make sure Edward had done all of the steps of embalming. Her skin felt cold through the latex gloves, but not as cold as most who I had worked on. I could almost swear I felt the slightest amount of warmth rising to the surface of Her body as I picked up one of Her hands.
“Well, Mary, I suppose we should get you ready now,” I said, my eyes widening in surprise as I heard the sound of my own voice resounding against the walls. She seemed to smile at my words, taking comfort in my company.
Carefully, I pulled the dress over Her head. Her eyes glimmered up at me, the most beautiful and deep blue I had ever seen. They were so innocent, yet gave me this burning feeling in my chest as I felt myself getting lost in them. She looked so incredibly alive to me, but again, I reminded myself of Her family and friends, knowing they would recoil in horror if I left Her as she was now. I would not close Her eyes just yet though.
Breaking myself from the trance at last, I put the cross Her mother had given me around Her neck. Her skin felt soft through the gloves - I wanted nothing more than to remove them. But I could not bring myself to touch Her saintly skin; I was not worthy as a pitiful, mortal being.
I applied moisturizer to Her face, followed by a small amount of foundation, just to darken Her pale complexion slightly. This was followed by rouge, for Her lips and cheeks. I did not know how much time had passed, until I glanced over at a clock in the corner of Her room. Reality must have been slipping free, as hours had passed, and it had not felt as if one of them had actually gone back.
It was Her eyes. I kept getting lost in them. The last thing I remember before I blacked out and awoke to the horror of police tearing me away from Her warm flesh, I felt my eyes growing heavy. Slowly, I was being pulled back into what must have been that dream world, but felt so wonderfully real.
“Mason, I have been waiting for you,” she said, beaming up at me. I swear she said it, and then pulled me toward Her warm body, suddenly pumping with life.
I cannot explain the rest, but I swear she said it. If I could take my own life right now, I would. In a heartbeat, I would. I hate that I invaded and violated Her. She was so innocent, and beautiful. But I must be honest, I must, as there is really nothing left for me now that they have me locked away in this sanitarium. Sometimes, when I wake up, I still wake up grasping onto the twisted dreams of the night prior, where she cries out my name and I can feel her hands pulling me closer.
I could sense, even then, that this one was special. Turning, I glanced over at my reflection in the only mirror in the room. It was dusty; I did not look in mirrors often, but I rubbed a dust cloth against it until I could make out my reflection. I attempted to smooth out the wrinkles in my shirt and quickly combed my hair over the freckled bald spot on my head.
Normally, I would not care about the reflection staring back, but I could feel my heart thumping rapidly with anticipation and I just knew. Something was different about this one. I attempted to smile, but turned away from the mirror when the smile was returned with a ghoulish and horrible grin, one filled with yellow, rotting teeth.
I heard the men knocking loudly against the side door as I descended the staircase outside of my room, a pale, bony hand latched onto the railing beside it for support. I remembered jumping these steps a few at a time when I was younger, but those days were far behind me. I was the last of my family left, and had never found one to marry. I had been attractive, once, and in my younger days, I was not without the occasional date here and there, despite my odd mannerisms. “You never listen, Mason,” they’d say, shaking their head and sighing at me as if I was some sort of weird creature. That was always their complaint. And I can’t say I blame them; I could just never find it in me to pretend to find whatever they happened to be going on about remotely interesting.
I heard the knocking turn to banging against the side door as the dark hall lit up, followed by a loud clap of thunder which shook the old house at its roots. After passing through the pain main room, which was covered in sickening yellow wallpaper and filled with vases of red and pink roses paired with baby’s breath, I finally opened a small door which led to the side room. It was a small, dimly lit room with no windows. All of the bodies were brought into that room, and then reeled down the ramp into the basement.
“Jesus Christ, you think he’s sleeping or something?” what I could only assume to be James’ yelled angrily.
At that moment, I yanked the door to the outside sharply open. They were both completely drenched. “No, no… sorry about that,” I said, holding the door open for my two assistants so that they could wheel Her in. I could hear James muttering under his breath, but I knew he would not say anything further about the issue in my presence.
As they pushed the stretcher through the door, I felt my hands rise instinctively upward, until they were grasping the silver cross which hung from my neck. I felt a sudden urge to kneel, but remembered I was in company other than Her’s, and thus refrained.
“This one here, it’s a darn shame, just sixteen years old, I reckon,” James said, while Edward, my other assistant simply nodded his head in confirmation. Edward hardly ever spoke. He was a short, pudgy man without charm, but one who did not waste words so needlessly, unlike James, who was always making conversation just to avoid silence. I always preferred the silent type, and besides, Edward was a natural when it came to embalming.
“Shame,” I said, as casually as I could, feeling a sudden rush of blood rise to my face. I turned my face from them, so that it was covered in the shadows.
“Edward, I am not feeling very well at the moment. Would you mind embalming Her, and I’ll finish Her up and make Her presentable for the viewing?” It was not really a question, he knew, so I didn’t even have to look over to know he was nodding.
“Very well then,” I said, and thought I saw from the corner of my eye his own face turn slightly red as his eyes lit up. It seemed as if his hands were trembling and he was looking most forward to this task I had given him.
I suddenly felt what I could only describe as a pang of jealousy run through my system as I looked at those fat, greedy hands. But I could not change the plan now. Besides, I did not want to see Her in the current state she was I remember the picture her mother had given me. Right now it was sitting in the drawer next to my bed, carefully placed in a silk cloth with a bright, blue cross on it.
Before I retired to my bedroom, I exchanged a few more words with Edward, instructing him to take good hair of Her. Finally, I climbed the creaking steps back up to my bedroom. The last thing I remember before falling asleep was Her large, blue eyes gazing into mine and Her long, flowing brown, almost golden hair.
Throughout the night I had many a dream, as I would awake sporadically due to the continuing storm outside. She appeared throughout these visions, some which I dare not repeat, though in most she was angelic and virginal, appearing as the blessed mother Mary. In the last of these dreams, she was cradling a small baby in Her arms, as she walked along a flowing river. She turned toward me, Her lips turning upward into a smile. This was the last image to appear to be before I woke from the sunlight creeping into my room, I buried my head back into my pillow, grasping tightly to that last image, but it was gone.
With a sigh, I finally pulled myself from bed, got dressed and carefully placed the photograph in my pocket. I pulled the curtains open, scanning the skies for the dark storm clouds. The storm had gone, however, and the skies were devoid of clouds, and the sun filled the room with piercing light. I winced, and shut them again.
When I arrived in the basement, the nervous feeling in my stomach had only grown more intense, and I could not bring myself to eat anything. Slowly, I brought myself toward the table, where she lay naked, save for a modesty cloth, which had been placed across her lower half. Some of the more unmentionable dreams flitted through my head upon seeing Her, and I felt color rise to my cheeks.
It seemed as if the whole table was radiating with warm, celestial light. On a side table, Edward had carefully laid out the dress Her mother had given to me while sobbing over her daughter’s death. It was hard for me to believe this beautiful creature that lay before me had come from such a haggard, frightful woman. The woman had told me her daughter’s name was Miranda, a name I scoffed at. She was my Mary. Miranda was hardly a name for Her. This earth was not even a place for Her.
I placed the picture on the table, carefully comparing Her face in the picture to the one before me. She looked perfect in Her current state, but I knew much work needed to be done before she could be laid in Her coffin. After putting on gloves, I carefully examined the body, checking to make sure Edward had done all of the steps of embalming. Her skin felt cold through the latex gloves, but not as cold as most who I had worked on. I could almost swear I felt the slightest amount of warmth rising to the surface of Her body as I picked up one of Her hands.
“Well, Mary, I suppose we should get you ready now,” I said, my eyes widening in surprise as I heard the sound of my own voice resounding against the walls. She seemed to smile at my words, taking comfort in my company.
Carefully, I pulled the dress over Her head. Her eyes glimmered up at me, the most beautiful and deep blue I had ever seen. They were so innocent, yet gave me this burning feeling in my chest as I felt myself getting lost in them. She looked so incredibly alive to me, but again, I reminded myself of Her family and friends, knowing they would recoil in horror if I left Her as she was now. I would not close Her eyes just yet though.
Breaking myself from the trance at last, I put the cross Her mother had given me around Her neck. Her skin felt soft through the gloves - I wanted nothing more than to remove them. But I could not bring myself to touch Her saintly skin; I was not worthy as a pitiful, mortal being.
I applied moisturizer to Her face, followed by a small amount of foundation, just to darken Her pale complexion slightly. This was followed by rouge, for Her lips and cheeks. I did not know how much time had passed, until I glanced over at a clock in the corner of Her room. Reality must have been slipping free, as hours had passed, and it had not felt as if one of them had actually gone back.
It was Her eyes. I kept getting lost in them. The last thing I remember before I blacked out and awoke to the horror of police tearing me away from Her warm flesh, I felt my eyes growing heavy. Slowly, I was being pulled back into what must have been that dream world, but felt so wonderfully real.
“Mason, I have been waiting for you,” she said, beaming up at me. I swear she said it, and then pulled me toward Her warm body, suddenly pumping with life.
I cannot explain the rest, but I swear she said it. If I could take my own life right now, I would. In a heartbeat, I would. I hate that I invaded and violated Her. She was so innocent, and beautiful. But I must be honest, I must, as there is really nothing left for me now that they have me locked away in this sanitarium. Sometimes, when I wake up, I still wake up grasping onto the twisted dreams of the night prior, where she cries out my name and I can feel her hands pulling me closer.